Wonderful Caricature (Ryden)

V

okay. last chapter left off in a weird place. lemme fix it with this one.

also dallon literally looks like this all the time. only bc brobecks era was such a look for him.

also. it's my birthday (4/19). here's an update!

~

"How the hell did you find my house? I mean.. Not that you're not welcome, I'm just concerned."

Eleven am on a Thursday morning with sunlight peeking its way through the horrific dining room drapes, I'm greeted by the sharped dressed geek himself, Dallon Weekes, and I.. I'm in my pyjamas. Which consist of red plaid pyjama pants, the baggiest white t-shirt in the entire world, my hair in a loose ponytail, and my glasses. Thankfully, I would never be caught dead with morning scruff, but this is bad enough.

"You're a bit of a celebrity.." Lies, a grand total of five people know I do drag, "I just asked this guy I passed by on the street while he was on his way to his job," Jack. No doubt, "He seemed nice enough," Oh, he is. Never said Jack wasn't a friendly guy, but I bet he questioned why some guy he's never seen was asking where I live.

"I'm sure he was," I open the door wider to let him, and unfortunately the winter-chilled air, in because I'd rather not have this poor man catch a cold because I wouldn't let him inside, "Come on in, I'm sure Mother Nature won't mind if I get to see your pretty face for a little while."

"That seems reasonable.." Dallon mumbles quietly as he tiptoes carefully inside and shuts the door behind himself while I make my way to the kitchen.

"Make yourself comfortable," I chuckle to myself as I hear Dallon take off his brown leather loafers that were slick with the sleet from outside, "Coffee or tea?" I peek over my shoulder to see him in a tweed jacket, a light peach dress shirt, a colourful, striped bow tie, his signature suspenders, and some dark brown slacks. All dressed up to come visit me, how cute. Or maybe this is just how he is. Kind of clumsy, very quirky.

Kind of cute.

"I-I couldn't possibly-"

"Dallon, please," I just smile at him and chuckle at the thought of him thinking he's such a bother to me, "My mother raised me to be the best housewife you've ever seen," On this side of the Rockies, anyway. I'm sure some lady in Baton Rouge would give me a run for my money, "I swear, it's no trouble."

"I don't mean to impose or anything.." I don't have to turn around to know he's sitting down as the squeak of a wooden dining room chair against the checkered linoleum floor let me know moments before, "I just thought.." He trails off and I let my shoulders slump slightly.

That settles it. I'm making tea.

Ginger? Chamomile. He needs to chill out. Like, desperately.

So do I, if I'm being honest, but not as much as him.

"Dallon.." I nearly sing his name, just to get his attention as I scan around the cupboards for the tea I wanna make, "Could you c'mere for just a minute?" No, not because I'm too short, I'm just shy of six feet.  The only thing I'm too short for is ducking under doors, which is something I'm sure Dallon does on the daily.

"Um, sure," I'm gonna place a safe bet on his cheeks being plenty warm from the rosy tint that's no doubt gracing them because I'm currently trying to figure out what the hell my mother did with the tea kettle.

"I've got a question for you and I'm begging you not to take it the wrong way," Ha! Wait. Why was it under the sink? Anyway..

"Okay.."